


Eric Bittle and the Matchmakers' Mayhem

by lardosundercut (staccato_ramble)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 'Swawesome Santa 2018, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-27 07:52:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staccato_ramble/pseuds/lardosundercut
Summary: Bitty fully expects for his fifth year at Hogwarts will be busy enough as he prepares for his OWLs, tries to win Hufflepuff its first Quidditch Cup in nearly a decade, and avoids the madness that the Triwizard Tournament brings to his school. There’s definitely no time to think about his crush on his best friend, Jack Zimmermann, let alone to consider the possibility that the feelings may be mutual. (Un)fortunately, he has a group of friends who are happy to play matchmaker.





	Eric Bittle and the Matchmakers' Mayhem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LexiWritesThings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexiWritesThings/gifts).



> Thank you LexiWritesThings for the prompt, it was so fun that I was happy to let it get away from me a little. I hope it's everything you would've wanted!

As Bitty soars hundreds of feet in the air in pursuit of the snitch, he can't help but think this isn't what his mama meant all the times she said he was magic. She'd nearly fallen over when Professor Longbottom arrived at their house on the morning of his eleventh birthday, but Bitty found that he took to the wizarding world like a duck to water. Coming from a Muggle family meant he spent most of his first year trying to learn as much as possible, excited to find that there were other people who could relate to making sweets that literally made people feel warm and loved or making sparks shoot from his fingertips when he landed his first Biellmann spin.

Hogwarts doesn't have an actual rink, so Bitty sometimes misses Biellmann spin or even basic lunges. Though, if Shitty is to be believed, Bitty probably has ice skating to thank for the fact he's been on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team since his second year. He's faster than almost anyone who plays and has both the flexibility and balance to pull off some last minute catches. He'd love to pull one of the tricks he's been practicing with Chowder lately, if only the snitch would appear near the goalposts. Across the field from him, Chowder grins and waves as he caught the Quaffle inches before it could slip past.

"THAT'S ANOTHER BEAUT OF A SAVE BY CHOW," booms Shitty's amplified voice over Hufflepuff cheers and Gryffindor booing, "CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS GORGEOUS KEEPER IS ONLY A FOURTH YEAR? AND FROM WHAT I HEAR, HE'S FREE FOR HOGSMEADE NEXT MONTH!"

Bitty doesn't need to glance that way to know that Headmistress McGonagall is giving Shitty a stink-eye. He's been the commentator as long as Bitty's been playing on his house team and was the one to give Bitty his Quidditch nickname. The sport is something he loves so dearly but refuses to play, on the basis that his parents would enjoy it too much. Instead, Shitty sticks to commentating and, in doing so, his favorite thing is to see how close he can get to losing the position without any actual consequences.

Something gold flashes in the corner of Bitty's eye, pulling all his focus from thoughts of Shitty. It's the snitch, zooming in and hovering for half a heartbeat before speeding off towards the Gryffindor end of the pitch. Bitty grips the handle of his broom and pursues it, adrenaline rushing through his veins. The Gryffindor Seeker picks up on what's happening and is on his heels, but Bitty knows he's faster. The snitch loops around Holster, who cheers encouragement Bitty's way. There's maybe thirty feet between Bitty and victory, so close he can almost taste it. Then, there's a loud crack and Bitty's stomach drops.

Even better than Holster (who has played as a Beater even before he received his Hogwarts letter), Bitty recognizes the sound of a Bludger coming his way. He glances over his shoulder and, sure enough, there's one hurtling towards him. Both of the Hufflepuff Beaters are racing towards it but Bitty knows the ball is faster than they are, faster than him.

His entire body begins to shake and tears blur his vision, though Bitty keeps his eyes locked on the snitch. He can hear the Bludger rushing towards him and his teammates shouting warnings. Shitty is yelling too, describing how both Seekers are only a few feet from securing victory for their teams. All of Hogwarts seems to be on their feet as Bitty descends past the stands, their cheering fading into white noise. There's a variety of reasons that taking a Bludger hit terrifies Bitty. The most obvious is that it hurts - Bludgers mean bruises and blood and broken bones. The second most obvious is that, when you're flying through the air at high speeds, you want to avoid anything that is likely to send you hurtling towards the ground. The less obvious, though, is that time seems to slow down between the initial hit and final impact. Time moved like molasses in wintertime, during which Bitty can imagine every possibility of how the hit will end badly for him.

As the Bludger slams into his ribs and throws him off his broom, Bitty has time to send a little prayer that someone manages a cushioning charm before he hits the pitch. He mentally drafts the letter he'll send to his mama, who will be worried sick after she receives a letter from his Head of House notifying his parents of his injury. It's not until he's second from the impact that Bitty is able to process the fact that Shitty's saying his name, describing his fall.

"HE'S GOING DOWN BUT BITTLE HAS THE SNITCH! I REPEAT, BITTLE HAS THE SNITCH AND HUFFLEPUFF WINS!"

_At least there's that_ , Bitty thinks, then thankfully passes out just before he reaches the ground.

 

 

 

When he wakes up, Bitty knows immediately that he's in the hospital wing. There's the clean, harsh smell that lingers after the frequent use of disinfecting spells and the mattress on the cots are firm and thin compared to his dorm four-poster. As his vision clears, the stark white privacy curtain is the final clue to his surroundings. When he first joined the team, Bitty would pass out whenever a Bludger got within a few yards of him. For a while, he thought he'd get on a first name basis with Madam Pomfrey. Without Jack's early morning practices, he probably would have.

"Awake there, Bittle?" 

It's not that it's surprising that Jack was waiting at his side in the hospital wing. Despite being in Ravenclaw, Jack saw the Quidditch potential that Bitty had and (with some prodding from others), took it upon himself to help Bitty get past his Bludger block. While the practices had been tense and uncomfortable at first, three years had passed and now Jack was one of Bitty's best friends. It shouldn't surprise him that Jack would be there to support him, because Jack has done it hundreds of times before. Still, Bitty's stomach flips when Jack reaches out to ruffle his hair fondly. Because he's only two years younger, Bitty swats Jack's hand away, but feels a grin splitting his face.

"Be honest now," Bitty says, "How much of a fool did I make of myself?"

Jack frowns at that, blue eyes narrowing slightly. Bitty sternly reminds himself that he shouldn't find the look (or any of his very platonic best friend's looks) adorable, but his heart doesn't abide. Instead, it does a fantastic impression of a jackhammer pounding against his ribs. All at once, Jack's blue eyes are too handsome and intense and Bitty forces himself to look down. There's a sling holding his right arm to his chest. When he wiggles his fingers experimentally, they move but he can't feel them.

"You broke your wrist," Jack explains, following his gaze. "But only because your arm was stretched out to grab the snitch when you landed. It was great Quidditch - I couldn't have gotten that save."

Bitty feels his face get hot. When he first accepted lessons from Jack, the compliments had been few and far between. As Bitty improved, Jack had more to say but he remained honest. "Great Quidditch" was praise akin to any of delighted raves Shitty went on, during which he liked to promise his firstborn child to people. Bitty tries to play it cool and waves his uninjured hand demurely.

"You couldn't have gotten that save because you're a Chaser," Bitty chirps lightly. "And because your enormous butt would've makes you drop faster than me. Simple physics."

Jack opens his mouth to speak again, probably either a chirp of his own or a serious question about what Muggle thing 'physics' is, however, there's suddenly a group of people pushing their way past Bitty's privacy curtain. Before either of them can realize what's happening, Lardo slides down next to Bitty on the cot while Ransom and Holster somehow manage to both fit at the foot of the bed. Shitty, loud even without a _Sonorus_ charm, has sat right on the floor and is dramatically recounting the match as if none of them had been there.

Save for Shitty and Lardo, they all play Quidditch, so it's a lot of body mass in such a small physical space. Jack edges back ever so slightly and Bitty tries not to let his disappointment show because he does love all his friends and it's not fair to pick favorites. Besides, even if everyone is talking over each other, Bitty can't deny how much love he feels radiating off their little group.

When Holster begins to do a hilarious but ear-splitting impression of how the Gryffindor Seeker had cursed after Bitty caught the snitch, Madam Pomfrey finally pulls back the curtain. At her elbow, the much younger Matron-in-Training beams at them all. When Madam Pomfrey turns to look at her, the smile disappears quickly and is replaced with an attempt at a stern look.

"Madame Longbottom, what would you prescribe for Mr. Bittle's injury at this point?" Madam Pomfrey asks briskly.

"Standard treatment would be _Ferula_ to set the splint and then a fairly strong dose of Wiggenweld to ensure the bones knit together nicely. Then, at least two days in the sling to give him time to heal properly."

Madam Pomfrey nodded approvingly at Madame Longbottom before turning back towards Bitty and his friends. The lines on her face made her look stern, but her warm eyes always reminded Bitty of his Moomaw.

She says primly, "As I've told you all before, this is a place of healing and rest - not a host for roughhousing and hooliganism. As such, Mr. Bittle should be the only one in his bed and should be given some peace and quiet. Please say your goodbyes."

With that, Madam Pomfrey turned around and went to attend another patient. Madame Longbottom mouthed "two minutes" at them, then promised aloud that she would be back soon with the Wiggenweld. Slowly, Bitty's friends began to distance themselves from each other and the bed. Holster sighs dramatically, throwing himself into Shitty's chest and mocking a sob.

"Bro, can you believe we've descended so low as hooliganism?" Holster bemoans as Shitty cradles him and joins in the mock sobs.

Ransom rolls his eyes, swatting the back of Holster's head lightly. He's very clearly trying not to laugh as he straightens the Prefect badge on his chest. When he speaks, Bitty recognizes it as the slightly patronizing tone that Ransom usually reserves for first years who break rules.

"Your face is hooliganism. If it wasn't for you two big mouths, we would've been fine. Jack, Lards, and I would never stoop so low as to desecrate the sacred hospital wing in such a way."

"Speak for yourself," Lardo replies, leaning in to give Bitty a quick hug. "I personally am pro-hooliganism. I do take a hard stance against something as ghastly as roughhousing."

She proves this to be patently false by hip-checking Ransom, sending him colliding into Shitty and Holster. In response, Ransom squawks and Shitty jokingly challenges Lardo to a duel to defend someone's honor. Grinning against the pillows, Bitty wishes his wand arm wasn't in a sling so he could join in on the fun.

"You’re _all_ hooligans," Jack says with fond exasperation. "Madam Pomfrey was right about that and that Bitty needs his rest."

"Ooh, Head Boy lays down the law," Shitty says, then bats his eyelashes at Jack. "If I don't listen, can I pretty please serve detention? Maybe we can find the old chains that Filch kept and have some fun?"

Jack rolls his eyes at that. Bitty tries very hard to not think of all the ways private detention with Jack could end pleasantly - namely with kissing. As Jack herds their friends out the door, Bitty tells himself that he has to cancel his subscription to Witch Weekly because clearly, the recipes aren't worth all the love articles going to his head.

 

 

In theory, they're in the library to write a mock-NEWT essay for Transfiguration. In actuality, Shitty hasn't started while Jack's parchment already extends past the required five feet. So, while Shitty pokes half-heartedly through books in search of references, Jack's charming Bertie Bott's beans into Shitty's mouth. As he bites into a neon green one, Shitty grimaces instantly and elaborately feigns choking to death. Jack laughs into the sleeve of his robes, but Madam Pince still rounds the corner, giving them both a sharp, ominous glance to silence them.

"You know, they say she's been here since Harry Potter's _parents_ ," Shitty says, faux-whispering in a conspiratorial tone once Madam Pince retreats back into the stacks. "You think that means he's more likely to give her an autograph when he visits?"

"Harry Potter doesn't give autographs," Jack replies instantly. "My dad tried once."

Jack tries not to bring up his dad often. While Jack always knew him as Papa, the world at large only saw Bad Bob - part of the 1990 Canadian National Team line up and flew for over 36 straight hours during the five-day match. This claim to fame was how he ran into Harry Potter - Bob was inducted to the International Quidditch Hall of Fame a few years ago. Ginny Potter was in attendance with the Boy Who Lived as her plus one. Jack had a front row seat as his father embarrassingly asked for them both to sign his robes. The couple had laughed before politely declining and Jack had wanted to die on the spot. It was one of his father's favorite dinner party stories.

"Still," Shitty continues, chewing thoughtfully on another bean. "He's probably going to come to Hogwarts since his son’s here now."

The kid was only a first year and, if he were honest, Jack wasn't sure he'd be able to pick the boy out of a crowd. There were tons of relatives of people who had fought at the Battle of Hogwarts. Besides, growing up with an international Quidditch player for a father and a mother who regularly graced the covers of _Spellbound_ , _Witch Weekly_ , and the like had given Jack was Shitty refers to as a "bit of a complex". So, Jack purposefully ignores what Shitty said.

"If anything, he's probably going to visit because of the tournament. He competed in it after all."

It's a cheap move. Over the summer, the Daily Prophet had announced that the decision had been made to relaunch the Triwizard Tournament in the name of continuing efforts to strengthen the international Wizarding community post-war. Within an hour of the paper arriving by post, Shitty had Flooed to the Zimmermann house with annotated arguments about how disgusting and terrible the whole thing was. Time has not been a balm and Shitty's lip curls so it's completely hidden in his mustache.

"Don't even get me started! They wait until poor Cedric Diggory is in the ground exactly thirty years and decide that's long enough for everyone to forget how the last Triwizard Tournament ended with the Dark Lord rising! Can you fuckin' believe it? And when my parents heard, they were like 'oh, son, mayhaps you can enter your name and restore the family honor'?"

Shitty somehow manages to make the action of chewing on a jellybean look indignant.

"Honestly, bro. If you tell me you're entering your name, I'll need to kick your ass from here to London. Then, show you some compelling articles on how the Muggles use something called the Olympics to promote sportsmanship and unity and no fucking teenagers die in it."

"At least they're not canceling Quidditch for this one," Jack says mildly. Then, to quell the rage he sees still burning in Shitty's eyes, he says, "Tell me more about Muggle sports? I can't imagine they're very interesting without brooms."

It's another conversational cheap trick that Jack discovered shortly after he and Shitty were sorted into Ravenclaw and, as such, fated to share a dormitory for seven years. Shitty launches into a practiced lecture about how that kind of comment oozes with anti-Muggle prejudice before finally admitting that some of the sports would probably be improved by the use of charms. Shitty's half-way through explaining hockey, which seems promising to Jack because of its relative similarities to Quidditch, when Shitty interrupts himself and turns on Jack.

"By the way, how the fuck are we celebrating Bitty's big win?" Shitty demands, leaning in so close to Jack that their foreheads are touching. "You should be especially proud that your star pupil took a Bludger hit and lived not only physically but emotionally."

Pride blooms in Jack's chest, warm and full and making the back of his neck flush. When he first started coaching Bitty, it had been as a favor to Shits and Jack often spent their practices grinding his teeth. Now, Jack wouldn't be surprised if the same scouts attending all Ravenclaw matches came to see Bitty in two years times.

"You're right, it should be something big," Jack says, an idea slowly unfurling itself in his mind. "I may know just the thing."

 

 

As Jack plops down next to Bitty, he can't help but notice how the flames of the jack-o-lanterns set up for the Halloween feast make Bitty's blonde hair shine like spun gold. The thought surprises him a little because Jack isn't typically one for anything poetic. Probably too much time spent around Nurse, the new Gryffindor Prefect that tags along with Lardo sometimes. He shakes the thought from his head, instead tugging on Bitty's elbow, finally free from the sling.

"C'mon," Jack says, trying to keep his eagerness out of his voice. "I have a better idea for dinner."

Bitty arches an eyebrow at him, looking incredulously at the piles of food on the table. There are charmed decorations lining the walls of the Great Hall. Along the head table, the students who came from Beauxbatons for the Triwizard Tournament are performing an elaborate series of Transfiguration and Charms as a part of their school's demonstration. He turns back to Jack, expression highly skeptical.

"Trust me," Jack tries, squeezing Bitty's elbow. "If you don't like it, we can come back. And skip tomorrow's training session."

Clearly, the prospect of not having to wake up at dawn to be at the Quidditch pitch before one of the House teams practice is enticing. Still, Bitty's eyes flick back towards the front of the hall. The Beauxbatons students have created a replica of their school out of ice. It catches the light coming off the Goblet of Fire, causing everyone in the Great Hall to cheer. Bitty squints at Jack, clearly growing suspicious.

"Don't you want to see if your name comes out of the Goblet?" Bitty asks.

It had been a hot topic of discussion for the past few weeks. Ransom and Holster had designed an elaborate system for people to place bets on who would be named the Hogwarts champion while privately bemoaning the fact that they were too young to put their own names into the Goblet. If anyone else was asking, Jack knows his stomach would be in knots. But, because this is Bitty, he knows that he can say the thing he hasn't told anyone - not even his parents or Shitty.

"My name won't come out because I didn't put it in," Jack explains, voice soft. "Now are you coming with, Bittle, or will I need to hex you?"

With someone else, there would have been a flurry of questions about why Jack wouldn't enter. Rita Skeeter had published an entire expose on how winning the tournament could be the one way that Jack could step out of his famous parents' shadows. But, as Jack constantly finds himself thankful for, Bitty isn't someone else. He pushes himself out of his seat with a little huff, but still smiles as he crosses his arms.

"Lead the way, Mr. Zimmermann," Bitty says, prodding his wand between Jack's shoulder blades. "But I'll remind you that I know how to brew potions that would make your worst hex seems like a tickling charm."

They chirp each other the entire way to the kitchens. Not for the first time, Jack wishes that Bitty was a little older so they could graduate at the same time. Jack and Shitty already have plans to get a flat together after leaving Hogwarts, but Jack can't help but think that it would be better if Bitty could be there too - if only so they didn't die of malnutrition.

The thought of living with Bitty outside of school makes something strange stir in Jack's chest, however, so he pushes it down in favor of grabbing Bitty's elbow again. They stop in front of the large painting that hides the entrance to the school kitchens, causing Bitty to give Jack a confused look.

"Now, Jack," Bitty begins in a sugary sweet voice, typically reserved for the handful of people who give him grief over being Muggleborn, "You do know that the kitchen is going to have the same food as the feast? The feast we just left?"

Jack forces himself to push down his glee because Bitty clearly has no idea about the surprise waiting for him. Perfect. In an attempt to stay stoic, Jack folds his arms across his chest and adopts what his friends call his "Head Boy" face. In response, Bitty rolls his eyes even as he reaches out to tickle the pear.

"If you wanted to cancel our practice session, you could've just said. No need for all this trouble on account of me..."

When the painting swings open, their friends and a crowd of House Elves are waiting for them. Everyone yells surprise on the queue and the crowd parts, revealing a table laid out not only with a smaller version of the Halloween feast, but the ingredients one would need to bake something the Muggle way. One of the House Elves, Betsy, curtseys the best she can while wearing a tea towel.

"We was told that Mr. Bittle likes to bake but doesn't want us to do the work. We said we is happy to burn our fingers if our baking is no good," Betsy squeaks, while Shitty looks horrified. "But Mr. Zimmermann said not to and that Mr. Bittle maybe would let us help as long as he's in charge?"

"Of course you can help!" Bitty cries, stooping down to wrap the elf in a hug. "Y'all do such hard work and everything is always so good! I'm sure you have lots to teach me."

Betsy's face turns a very bright red at that, though she's clearly pleased. She insists that they finish their dinner while she gets the ovens and pots ready. As the takes the time to hug and thank each of his friends, Bitty very clearly is trying not to cry. Still, by the time he reaches Jack, Bitty's sniffles are loud and his eyes are red. He all but throws himself at Jack, his arms tight around Jack's neck. Jack hugs him back, a little surprised when Bitty hooks his chin on Jack's shoulder. Bitty must've had a growth spurt to be able to do that, nevermind how strong his arms feel around Jack.

The strange, warm feeling begins to bloom in Jack's chest again. He decides it isn't entirely unpleasant and, patting Bitty on the back, tells him they need to get started on dinner and the rest of the night if they don't want to be exhausted at their flying session tomorrow.

 

 

"The problem is I _want_ to make a move," Bitty says, pausing to emphasize the seriousness of his dilemma. "But I don't want to make a move until I know that he wants me to make a move."

Across from him, Lardo sips her butterbeer while nodding sympathetically. They've spent most of their Hogsmeade visit in The Three Broomsticks, Bitty bemoaning the trials and tribulations of having a crush without ever explicitly using Jack's name. Lardo has only really responded with nods and the occasional _mmmhmm_ , but Bitty has a sneaking suspicion that she knows exactly who he's talking about. He's about to ask her outright when Holster bursts into the pub and flings himself dramatically into their corner booth.

"You won't believe who's sipping tea at Puddifoot's right now!"

"Chowder's got a date," Bitty replies instantly.

At the same time, Lardo says, "Nursey snuck in when he thought I wasn't looking."

Holster gives them both a dirty look, only stopping when Bitty offers up his butterbeer. Despite being a foot taller than both Bitty and Lardo, Holster manages to make himself seem small and pathetic as he nurses the drink. It's not until he's wiping the foam from his lips and Lardo has ordered everyone another round that Holster lets out an elongated, loud sigh.

"Everyone knows that Madame Puddifoot's is an atrocious, gauche place that no self-respecting witch or wizard would step foot, let alone choose as a place for romance-"

"Gauche? Big word there, Birkholtz," Lardo chirps.

Holster continues as if she hasn't said anything, continuing his tirade against Madame Puddifoot's menu, decor, and the overall atmosphere created by hundreds of twinkling lights and soft music. Early in their friendship, Bitty would've tried to interrupt and console him. However, it's been five years and he knows better. He signals for another butterbeer for himself, trying his best to be empathetic as he allows Holster to wear himself down.

Now, Bitty himself has never been to Madame Puddifoot's on a date and Holster is awfully upset, but Bitty still likes the idea of a romantic first date. Even if it is every Hogwarts student's go-to for first dates and anniversaries, a childhood spent reading his mother's romance novels under the covers late at night has given Eric Bittle a soft heart. He'd love to hold hands with someone and sip tea, the soft light making everything glow. And, if he's honest, some of Bitty's daydreams revolve around the idea of a certain someone smiling at him across the table of Madame Puddifoot's, Jack's blue eyes bright until he leans in for that first kiss and-

"Anyway," Holster cuts in, demolishing Bitty's fantasy before it can actually get anywhere. "Ransom is there right now with March! The two of them didn't even notice me because Ransy apparently was trying to dislodge her tonsils with his own mouth! Can you believe it? He didn't even tell me."

Bitty and Lardo exchange a look. He narrows his eyes at her and she raises a single eyebrow at him before glancing down at her own and Holster's now empty mugs. Despite all the time spent honing his reflexes as a Seeker, Bitty reach out and grab Lardo's arm before she's flying out of the booth and promising to buy a round for everyone. That leaves Bitty with Holster, who's folded into himself and glowering at the apparent injustice that Ransom had a date.

"Adam, honey," Bitty finally says, trying his best to be diplomatic. "I can't help but wonder, did you find out Ransom was on a date because you yourself were at Puddifoot's for a date?"

Holster looks pained, clutching his chest like he's been shot with the worst hex.

"Bitty. Bits. Why would you hurt me like this?

"That's a 'yes', then," Bitty says, leaning forward to pat Holster's arm. "So, you have no room to complain. And, besides, I remember a certain Beater promising me that he'd be less temperamental now that he's passed his OWLs."

"Chirp, chirp, chirp," Holster shoots back, but at least he's smiling again.

 

 

One of the few benefits of Hogwarts hosting the Triwizard Tournament is that Jack gets to spend time with Tater. While he still doesn't really know how the nickname emerged, Alexei Mashkov had latched onto Jack during an International League prospect camp over the summer. In the same breath that he declared Jack should only be called "Zimmboni", he very seriously insisted that Jack should call him "Tater" because everyone at Durmstrang did - though they didn't use the English word for it and Jack strongly suspected a joke was being lost in translation.

Still, they've been lucky enough to share a few classes since the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students arrived. When Tater complained about the inequality of the decision that only the Hogwarts students could participate in the Inter-House Quidditch Cup, Jack had immediately suggested that they begin to train together whenever possible.

Now, after nearly two hours of speed and agility drills, Jack's whole body is sore and sweaty. It's satisfying because while he loves playing with his House team, Tater _gets_ the desire to push his athleticism to its limits. Hell, Tater even gets the pressure of having scouts coming to matches and the pressure to make every game count. Now, Tater grins broadly and flies in close to pound good-naturedly on Jack's back.

"Zimmboni! Much faster than during summer! You are using special charms to be better than me?"

"Charmed brooms beyond regulation are means for a lifetime league ban," Jack says seriously, then Tater elbows him gently in the ribs and Jack realizes he's joking. "Ha. I mean, no. I've just been practicing a lot."

Tater laughs, but Jack doesn't feel like he's being laughed at, which is a relief. Shitty likes to compare him to a hippogriff - difficult to befriend but worth it once you do. As Tater begins to head back towards the ground, Jack follows him. Tater is a natural on a broom, not even looking as he descends - instead turning so he can continue his conversation with Jack.

"Still, you are much faster. Almost good enough for Gorodok Gargoyles, hm?"

It's such a blatant chirp that Jack laughs immediately. The Gargoyles were a smaller team but still managed to send Tater a generous offer this summer. Tater had politely declined, saying publicly that he wanted to finish school before signing. Privately, he'd told Jack that he was holding out for an offer from the Russian National Team. Jack manages a chirp back about receiving Tater's sloppy seconds. This is the first time in his life that he's had a friend who makes drafting seem even remotely humorous.

"At least you are not Hogwarts champion, Zimmboni," Tater says, dismounting from his broom and stretching. "Not only too fast but I would have to jinx your handsome face. Would be so sad."

When it comes to a school champion, Tater is a natural fit. He's athletic and friendly and excellent at Transfiguration. Jack is fairly sure most of Hogwarts wants Tater to win, rather than the actual school champion. (John Johnson, who Jack swears graduated last year, but apparently not.)

Perhaps it's anxiety or perhaps it's ego, but Jack assumed that he was going to have to answer a lot of questions about why he wasn't champion. His parents are famous, he's the Head Boy, and he's been connected in the past with Alexei Mashov and Kent Parson (championing Beauxbatons). Instead, he's only had one inquiry from Rita Skeeter. Unfortunately for her and to Jack's delight, Shitty had hijacked the interview to point out that the lack of a female champion proved that the tournament was less progressive today than it had been thirty years ago.

"I'm happy to just cheer you on, Tater."

"Good. Leaves me more girls to swarm for dates. You can have these sloppy seconds if you are wanting."

To prove his point, he waves to the small crowd of girls that have gathered in the stands to watch them practice. There are some squealing and giggles. Tater seems to bask in the attention, which seems impossible to Jack. While he recognizes some of them wearing stark, black Hogwarts robes, Jack couldn't tell who they are by name. This, combined with the fact that Jack regularly watched his parents discard proposals and love potions from the owl post, makes Jack's skin crawl. Still, if it makes Tater happy, he doesn't want to point out how strange and uncomfortable the pseudo-celebrity is.

"You can keep the swarming girls," Jack says amiably, patting Tater on the shoulder.

Tater shrugs at that. "Fine, swarming boys for you. Still good."

Instinctively, Jack wants to argue the point. But it's not the shift from 'girls' to 'boys' that bothers him, just the 'swarming'. Which is... _huh_. He's listened to Shitty talk about gender and sexuality for literal years, so the realization isn't scary or a shock. Jack mind flashes to Bitty, who came out last year and has been proud about it since. Bitty, who finds ways to make Jack feel like he's something to be proud of too. Bitty, who makes the idea and actuality of swarming crowds that much easier. Bitty, who has the most beautiful smile than Jack has ever since. Which. That's another _huh_ moment.

"C'mon, Tater," Jack says, wiping his forehead of the sweat as his mind turns thoughts of Bitty over and over. "Let's hit the showers."

 

 

For the umpteenth time that evening, Nursey lets out a long, suffering sigh and says, "Shits, fucking chill. _Please._ "

He manages to still seem casual about it because he hasn't turned away from his essay. The date of Yule Ball was announced at dinner and, since then, Shitty has been wandering around the castle. Bitty secretly thinks that Shitty should be grateful for the Triwizard Tournament, as it has given him so much material for lectures and new people to deliver them to. His current crowd is Bitty, Nursey, Chowder, and Dex - all people who are used to Shitty's indigent outrage by now. Chowder and Dex, for example, are embroiled in a close game of exploding snap.

"I will not chill," Shitty replies, huffing. "Balls like this are the perfect fuckin' example heteronormative temporality! They've been used for centuries to allow assholes in dress robes to arrange marriages that keep the power away from the people and, historically, have contributed to the treatment of young witches as chattel. Not to mention how bullshit it is that all this money is being poured into an event hosted by schools!"

Bitty, who has never been to a ball in his life but who acted as a Prince Charming in games of pretend with his Muggle cousins, chews his lip. On one hand, he's Muggleborn and, because of it, hasn't really explored all the traditions of the wizarding world the way Shitty has. On the other, Bitty's cousins all went to prom back in Georgia and they didn't seem to think of themselves as chattel. Hell, his cousin Tallie had been _prom queen_ and still managed to be a bullheaded young lady, thank you very much.

His confusion must show on his face because Nursery leans in and whispers, "Ignore him. He's dealing with some weird Pureblood guilt because he doesn't know how to ask out Lardo."

"I heard that!" Shitty exclaims then redirects his rant on how he doesn't know why everyone thinks he has feelings for Lardo.

At this shift, Bitty can't help but roll his eyes. Moomaw likes to say that denial isn't just a river in Egypt, something that Shitty and Lardo exemplify. Since he was a first year, Bitty has known that Shitty was head over heels, though he would dance around the topic. Lardo, on the other hand, has never said anything outright about her feelings towards Shitty, but her long glances and sketchbook pages say enough. To Bitty, it seems silly that they don't just do something about it because it's the world's worst secret. Lord knows that if Jack felt the same way about him, Bitty would've already been planning their outfits for the Yule Ball.

After all, Bitty is from Georgia and his mama made sure that he spent years attending the best cotillion classes available in the tri-county area. He spent endless Wednesday nights learning how to properly greet guests, sip tea, and engage in the art of conversation. These skills as a perfect Southern gentleman and a decent waltzer seem like they'd be useful at a proper wizarding ball. At the very least, he'd use them to his full advantage if by some miracle he was allowed to escort Jack to the ball.

His stomach flips pleasantly at the two of them in dress robes, dancing together under fairy lights and lanterns. Bitty would surprise Jack by leading for as many dances as possible, pressing their bodies together while keeping his hand in the dip of Jack's waist like his cotillion teacher taught. Then, when they were both tired of dancing, Bitty would demurely suggest that they slip off the main floor and into somewhere more secluded.

Once successfully away from prying eyes, Bitty would happily ask Jack to do all kinds of things that his cotillion teacher would've tutted at. It would be perfect - kissing and holding each other with the soft strains of music in the background.

"Oh no," Chowder says, softly. Then, the game of snap explodes with sparks and smoke, cutting off Bitty's thoughts and Shitty's words in a swift, single action.

 

 

For the first time in his Hogwarts career, Bitty wants to be proactive when it comes to academics. Though it's still autumn, OWLs are looming large over him. After spending endless weeks locked in the library last year attempting to coax Ransom out from under a table, Bitty has concerns about his own performance. He could probably ace his Potions OWL blindfolded and Transfiguration comes easily to him, but with fifth-year Charms comes a demand for understanding basic theory and translating it to new spells.

Despite having his NEWTs waiting at the end of the term, Jack has agreed to help Bitty study. For Jack, it seems like a pragmatic choice - he's already passed his OWLs and, as a Ravenclaw, he loves learning and helping others learn. Lardo insists that Jack will return to Hogwarts after his Quidditch career, having a whole new generation of students drool over him. While Jack isn't sure about that, he's happy to spend a few evenings a week working with Bitty.

Right now, they're working on food-related incantations. It's not exactly Jack's expertise, but the theory behind most cooking charms mainly involve manipulation and heat - simple enough conceptions. However, Bitty was raised cooking the Muggle way, so he's unhappy with most of the results. When Jack tried gently suggesting that it was okay if the lattice on his pies was slightly off-center, Bitty reacted like it was an Unforgivable. As a result, they've spent a good portion of this study session focusing on increasing Bitty's precision as he casts.

It's hard to believe that Bitty spent most of his life not knowing he was a wizard. Jack sits on a desk, watching the other boy gets ready to cast the charm again. When he moves, Bitty's wand truly seems like an extension of his body. His motions are fluid and natural - soft light emitting from the end of his wand as soon as the incantation leaves his lips. On the table between them, ribbons of pie dough gently float into the air, weaving across itself before landing on top of the rest of the pie they've been working on. When he's done, Bitty examines the pie and makes a disappointed humming sound.

"I'm sorry, Jack," he says, poking at the top of the pie. "But it's still not right. Maybe we just need to call it a day and move on to the heating portion? I've been getting better at those."

When Jack slides off the desk to examine the pie itself. The lattice landed a quarter of an inch off center, something Jack wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't spent so much time around Bitty. Wanting desperately to chase the disappointment from Bitty's voice, Jack squeezes his shoulder.

"You can do it," he promises. "I think the issue may be in your stance."

He tries modeling the proper posture as Bitty carefully removes the lattice and forms it back into a lump. Once completed, Bitty tries mimicking the stance, but the alignment of the shoulders is still off. When giving verbal directions fails to help Bitty, Jack steps behind him without much thought. It's not until he's standing with his front pressed against Bitty's back and gently moving Bitty's arms into the right position that Jack even considers if he should've asked first. It's too late for that now, though, Bitty's body is warm against his and he can feel the way Bitty's muscles are lax as he allows Jack to lead him.

Swallowing thickly, Jack decides to lean into it metaphorically if not literally. He gets Bitty's shoulders into the right position and, suddenly, is struck by the fact that he can smell Bitty's shampoo. It's a clean smell - peppermint and some kind of plant. Jack isn't sure that they've ever been this close. If Jack took one step to the side and Bitty turned his head, they could easily kiss. The thought doesn't even surprise Jack, just dawns on him slowly and organically like how understanding blooms when he's trying to work out a tricky bit of theory. Unknowing, Bitty casts the charm and Jack can feel the magic thrumming in his own veins.

The dough ribbons itself again, forming the lattice mid-air before drifting down onto the pie. Jack feels his heart thudding against his ribcage as if it's trying to break free. Finally, he pulls himself away from Bitty and, together, they go to inspect the pie. The latticework has landed perfectly. Jack's stomach feels tight but he finds that it isn't entirely unpleasant. He offers Bitty a fist to bump, telling him, "Told you that you could do it."

 

 

It's well into November now and it's almost too cold to be sitting out by the lake. The air has a bite to it, a teasing promise of snow and winter on the way. While Jack and Bitty perform dodging drills over the water itself, their friends are content to watch under the nearest tree with warming charms and thermos of hot chocolate. Jack and Bitty are too far up for any actual eavesdropping, but anyone with eyes can tell that a careful mix of chirping and flirting is happening twenty feet off the ground.

Ransom is the one to finally acknowledge it.

"So, are we going to act as oblivious as them or...?"

"Bitty will never admit to anything," Lardo cuts in, keeping her eyes trained on the two as they fly.

In an act of bravery that would never have been possible two years ago, Bitty leans heavily over the side of his broom to cast a charm at Jack. A snowball materializes out of nowhere, hitting Jack squarely into the side of the head. He looks surprised but still smiles as Bitty laughs at him and zooms off like they're playing tag.

"Jackabelle might not even though," Shitty adds. "But he's fuckin' gone. The entire kitchen thing? Dude'll do anything to make Bits smile. He's hopeless at dating though - remember Camilla Collins?"

The other three make noises that range from snorts of laughter to murmurs of sympathy. Poor Camilla Collins, who had the misfortune of being the only person to take Jack Zimmermann to Madame Puddifoot's, then sat through a two-hour lecture on the history of Quidditch in Canada for her troubles. Thankfully, Bitty has already sat through the same lecture a half dozen times, so it's unlikely that Jack would make the same mistake.

"Y'know," Holster begins, in the same tone he uses when suggesting outrageous plays. "The Yule Ball is coming up. Maybe we could use it to our advantage?"

Shitty's hot chocolate almost flies out of his hands in his excitement. "Use an institution of pureblood hierarchy into a force for good? Count me the hell in!"

"But how?" Ransom asks, pulling out a piece of parchment to take notes.

Lardo, who has been nodding thoughtfully up until this point, casts _Muffliato_ and beckons them closer. Above them, Jack and Bitty continue what they're doing in blissful ignorance as their friends plot.

 

 

Bitty's parents have never quite gotten the hang of the owl post and, as a result, he's used to not getting a lot of mail. That's why it's surprising that a tattered looking barn owl almost bowls him over as he heads down to dinner. Muttering darkly under his breath, Bitty watches as the bird ultimately crashes into Shitty's chest and presents its leg. Shitty unties a bright red envelope and Bitty automatically takes a step back. Every month or so, a member of the Knight family finds Shitty's misconduct unbecoming of the family heir and decides a Howler will set him straight. As a result, Bitty can now recognize Howlers on sight.

Shitty, however, through the frequency of Howlers received and his own boisterous nature seems to be immune to them at this point. He almost seems bored as he examines the Howler for a return address, though it's blank. As if sensing his nonchalance, the Howler began to smoke faintly - a warning of the impending explosion.

"Wonder why they didn't use the family bird," Shitty says, tearing the envelope open.

Once freed from the envelope, the Howler twists itself into the telltale thin lips and sharp teeth, but the voice isn't any of Shitty's relatives. Instead, it's Lardo's delighted-sounding shriek that comes out, loud enough to rattle Bitty's teeth.

"WITH A WIT BEYOND MEASURE AND A FLOW TO TREASURE, HE'S FULL OF GRACE AND HAS A MUSTACHIOED FACE, KNOWN AS A JUSTICE CRUSADER TO ALL, I ASK HUMBLY TO ESCORT HIM TO THE YULE BALL."

The Howler disappears with a puff of bright red smoke and Lardo appears from around the corner. She's grinning from ear to ear and, upon seeing her, Shitty swoons into her arms. Bitty, who has had to catch Shitty before himself, can't help but admire the way she shoulders the much taller boy's weight like it's nothing. While a Howler isn't exactly romantic, Bitty feels his own face threaten to split because of how wide his own smile is. Lord knows it took long enough for these two to get themselves sorted.

"Well, are you gonna say yes?" Bitty says, feigning impatience as he folds his arms across his chest.

"Oh, my dearest Larissa," Shitty begins, enunciating carefully in a way usually reserved for making fun of other purebloods. "I would be most honored if you served as my escort to the ball."

"'Swawesome," Lardo replies, miraculously stoic. "Is this where we do a weird pureblood handshake with blood?"

"The proper etiquette allows a kiss on the cheek to suffice," Shitty says, haughty.

Bitty sees what happens next in slow motion, the same way he sees the world whenever he falls from his broom. Both Shitty and Lardo move in to kiss the other on the cheek. However, by some happenstance, they both miscalculate the angle and instead of a kiss on the cheek, they kiss each other squarely on the lips. Either Shitty or Lardo makes a surprised sound but Bitty can't be sure of who because he lets out his own little squeal.

Suddenly, the world rushes out of slow motion and what started as a mistaken peck develops into full force snogging. Shitty and Lardo seem to have completely forgotten that he's there, so, as the last bit of Howler smoke dissipates, Bitty decided the only proper thing to do would be to make himself scarce.

As he rushes down the hallway in the opposite direction, he bumps into Jack. He grins beautifully at Bitty then asks if he knows where Shitty is. The same bright grin splits across Bitty's face and, feeling bold, he links arms with Jack and begins to steer him in the opposite direction of the newly discovered couple.

"Lord," Bitty begins, "Do I ever have the biggest 'I told you so' for you, mister."

 

 

Ransom and Jack are the only two out of their immediate circle of friends to sign up for Hogwarts mediwizard course and they've become thick as thieves because of it. While Jack views it as practical for someone who wants to be a professional athlete to know a little healing, Ransom's planning on becoming a Healer after graduation.

While the class isn't Jack's favorite, he's come to appreciate how willing Ransom is to share his expertise and enjoys their talks as they walk back from the hospital wing after. Today, Jack's chosen topic is how well he thinks Tater and Bitty would get along because they're friendly, cheerful extroverts and how that is a dilemma because, if they meet, they may both realize how boring Jack is by comparison.

"Sounds like someone may be jealous," Ransom teases, waggling his eyebrows.

Jack frowns at that. He wouldn't say that he's jealous, primarily because he knows that he has no right to be. Bitty can be friends with whoever he wants and so can Tater. Besides, it's not like Bitty is his [ _boyfriend_ ]. If Bitty wanted to date Tater, there would be nothing for Jack to do but step aside and be supportive. The very thought makes his heart clench in a way that most certainly isn't jealousy and Jack tries to push it away by focusing instead on Ransom's voice.

"For real though, bro, you know the best relationships occur organically. That friends to dating shit is the best."

"Is that why you and March broke up?" Jack asks, then winces at how it sounds even to his own ears. "Which I'm still sorry about, for what it's worth."

Ransom shrugs and, thankfully, doesn't look too upset. He jumps over one of the trick stairs and, once on the solid ground, leans against the railing. Jack stops as well, acutely aware that Ransom is attempting to have an intentional conversation with him. They learn all about intentional conversations as a part of their Prefect training - it involves a lot of meaningful eye contact and 'I statements'. So, despite knowing exactly which tricks Ransom is using, Jack tries to treat the conversation seriously.

"March and I didn't have a lot in common," Ransom says, slowly. "But I don't want you to think that opposites don't attract! I think the most important thing in a relationship is that you have enough in common to get along but are different in ways that complement each other. You gotta help each other grow and improve and shit."

"Like you and Holster?"

"Exactly! Like me and Holster!" Ransom says, nodding excitedly at first then quietly repeating. "Like me and Holster."

Because he's a good friend, Jack recognizes the expression on Ransom's face rapidly shifting from realization to panic. Because he's a good friend but still aware of his own shortcomings, Jack is relieved to spot someone at the top of the staircase and waves frantically. Bitty has a saying about ears burning and, if it were true, Jack is pretty sure that Holster's entire head would be on fire as he rushes down the stairs. He barely takes a moment to take in Ransom's state, then grabs both of his shoulders and gives a shake.

"Bro," Holster says seriously, "Breathe. I know what this is about. Forget March and go to the Yule Ball with me, just bros being bros."

Jack would very much like to be anyplace else right now. Prior to whatever is happening right now, he and Ransom were just going to drop off their stuff from class, then they were going to grab lunch. And while he's never been one for Wizarding Chess, Jack is trying desperately to strategize a way out of this without making anything worst. The panic on Ransom's face seems to be fading, at least, replaced by a softer, contented look. Hands still firmly planted on Ransom's shoulders, Holster's blue eyes narrow a little and he clears his throat.

"Bro," he says, more forcefully this time. "Are we going to run the Yule Ball besties style or not?"

In a move that's somewhat alarming to Jack given their proximity to one another and the trick step, Ransom grabs hold of Holster's shoulders and gives them what seems to be a substantial squeeze. For a brief, terrifying moment he turns to Jack and winks before facing Holster again.

"Bro," Ransom says, voice bright and earnest. "I'll go to the ball with you. But only under the condition that we are definitely not going just as bros."

"Bro?"

Holster's voice is strangely high, thick with emotion but not upset. Ransom's hands slide from his shoulder to cradle Holster's face. Jack, feeling wildly uncomfortable, decides that his mediwizard kit isn't so heavy after all and spins around. Whatever happens next, he doesn't need to bear witness to it. Instead, he'll find Bitty for lunch and ask him why, exactly, all their friends have lost their minds.

 

 

With only a week left before the Yule Ball and four of his best friends lost in their new found love, Bitty has discovered a new appreciation for the library. Thanks to Madam Pince, there are no groups of people buzzing about which dates they'll have or endless, noisy snogging sessions. There's even the unexpected benefit that Bitty's grades have risen from their usual "acceptably average" to "bordering overachievement". So, he's happy to be holed up in the library, looking for different texts on Draught of Peace for his potions class.

"What do you need, Kenny?"

At the sound of Jack's voice, Bitty's heart begins to race automatically. He's close by and, when Bitty peers around the bookshelf, he can see Jack standing with his back pressed against another shelf. Normally, Bitty would hurry over with a smile and a bright hello. Except someone else is already in front of Jack. The combination of blue robes, blonde hair, and Jack's words mean that it could only be Kent Parson - the champion from Beauxbatons who is the favorite to win the Triwizard Tournament after a phenomenal performance in the first task.

In theory, Bitty knew that Kent and Jack had a history. Rita Skeeter had written about it at length for the past few weeks. While Bitty wasn't one to typically believe gossip columns, these particular rumors had been partially confirmed by Ransom and Holster. Allegedly, they had been romantically entangled during some youth Quidditch league events. Bitty hadn't found it in himself to ask Jack about it directly, but the two seem awfully comfortable being so close amongst the books. He can't see Jack's expression because he's focused on Kent.

Jack says something else then, but his voice is too soft for Bitty to hear. If he were to move any closer, he'd definitely risk being seen though. Kent shifts and, while Bitty can only see his back, there's no doubt that he steps even closer to Jack. Bitty's stomach clenches, though it's nothing like the butterflies that usually appear when he's near Jack. No, this is an unpleasant tightness, accompanied by dread creeping up his spine.

"Come to the ball with me," Kent says and Bitty can't even be upset because everything about Kent Parson oozes charm. "It'll be like old times."

Even with Kent's body obstructed most of his view, Bitty can tell that Kent punctuates the sentence by gently cupping Jack's face in one hand. Bitty has dedicated thousands of day dreams to the gesture, picturing himself doing it before leaning in to kiss Jack. He takes a step back, not wanting to see the inevitable kiss. As he does so, he knocks into the shelf and a book thuds to the ground.

Kent turns around fully but Bitty hardly notices. Jack's blue eyes have locked in on his - open wide and beautiful for an instant before Bitty turns around and runs. He doesn't hear Madam Pince yelling at him about mistreating her books nor the soft way Jack says his name.

 

 

Watching Bitty run away, Jack's first instinct is to follow. This is an issue, however, because all he manages to do is bump into Kent. For the past few weeks, Jack has been carefully thinking about his feelings and Bitty, knowing full well that he's bad at feelings and not wanting to mess things up. Having all their friends get together and the pressure of the ball impending has only made it harder because Jack knows that Bitty gets spooked by change. Then there's Kent, who had been staring at Bitty's retreating form. His hands drop from Jack's face, instead hanging limply at his sides. Kent's studying his face and Kent, if nothing else, has always been excellent with feelings.

"Seriously, Jack?" Kent says softly.

If someone didn't know Kent or Bitty well, they may accuse Jack of having a type. Both are blonde and love being around people, though Kent strives to stay in the spotlight while Bitty simply just gravitates towards others. They both play Quidditch, though Kent is a Chaser while Bitty is one of the most promising Seekers that Jack has ever seen. They both love to talk but say more with their eyes. Except while Jack can meet eyes with Bitty and instantly know what the right thing to do is, Kent's eyes have become unfamiliar to him. Gently, Jack places his hands on Kent's shoulders and shifts him to the side.

"Seriously," Jack replies, trying his best not to be unkind.

He doesn't wait for a response then, rushing out of the library. As she did to Bitty only moments before, Madam Pince threatens detention and hexes. Despite the Head Boy badge on his chest, Jack ignores her. Bitty is either on his way to his Common Room or the kitchens and Jack is hoping for the latter, because then he doesn't need to bribe some Hufflepuff to let him in.

If he can only catch up to Bitty, he'll make it right. Jack isn't one for words, so he'll pull Bitty into his arms and kiss him. He's kissed people before but knows that it will be the best kiss of his life. Because playing Quidditch with Bitty is some of the best Quidditch that Jack has ever played and joking with Bitty is the hardest that Jack has ever laughed. And it isn't because Jack thinks Bitty is perfect. Jack has seen Bitty cussing mad and stinking after a game. Jack has seen Bitty get a potion from and have the results literally blow up in his face. Even more than that though, Bitty has seen the parts of Jack that even Jack doesn't like and still stays around.

Kissing Bitty will be the best kiss of his life, Jack knows, because he's already sure that he loves Bitty.

It's not even a _huh_ moment. It's not exactly a single thought or feeling. It's been in the back of Jack's mind and heart for weeks, patiently waiting for him to recognize it. Jack loves Bitty and wants desperately for Bitty to know. It makes his head spin like when he takes a sharp dive in Quidditch and his entire body feel warm. For the first time since his childhood, Jack's magic rushes through him unbidden and sparks fly from him fingertips.

"I love Bitty," Jack says to himself, deliriously happy.

He's so caught up in the words that he forgets all about the trick stair.

 

 

Sitting the Hospital Wing, Bitty feels something akin to déjà vu. Of course, he was the one laid up in bed at the beginning of the term but there's an undeniable familiarity as he sits next to the cot and watches Jack sleep. Jack who, poor thing, not only broke his arm when he got stuck in a trick step but knocked his head hard against the railing as he went down. For his troubles, he has a sling like Bitty was sporting earlier in the year and a lump on his head. Even with the injuries, he's still unfairly handsome.

Bitty sniffles loudly at the injustice of Jack being hurt and, as a result, Bitty's own guilt at thinking nasty thoughts about him and Kent Parson. When Chowder burst into the Common Room, hollering about how he'd found Jack passed out and rushed him to Madam Pomfrey, Bitty thought his heart would burst. Surely, the castle hadn't seen such drama and excitement since the Battle of Hogwarts. He'd been crowded in the hallway between Shitty and Lardo when Madam Pomfrey had finally stepped out and said she would only allow one visitor at a time. Bitty had been the group's unanimous first choice, though he now regrets it as he can hear Chowder and Holster still fussing loudly in the hallway.

"These boys are ridiculous," Bitty huffs, though his heart is feeling a little lighter.

He decides to indulge himself before one of the others break down the door to visit. Gently, Bitty reaches out and brushes Jack's bangs off his face, making sure not to graze the bandage. Jack's hair is soft and so is his skin when Bitty traces down his cheek and jawline with his knuckles. As Bitty rests his hand there for a moment, Jack's eyes flutter and then open. The color has always reminded Bitty of the sky on the perfect kind of day for flying.

Jack is so glad to see Bitty. He tries to reach out for him but finds he can't move his left hand properly and there's a dull pounding in his skull. Still, Bitty is here and smiling even as he pulls his hand away. Jack wants to tell him that it's okay, Bitty can touch him as much as he likes. But that could send the wrong message. Or maybe it's the right message? Because Jack certainly isn't opposed to touching but also doesn't want Bitty to feel pressured.

Jack settles on pushing himself up with his good hand and croaking out, "Bits."

Bitty tries to hush him, explaining that Madam Pomfrey is doing regular checks and that Jack will feel right as rain soon. He's about to stand up and excuse himself so someone else can have a turn to visit when Jack grabs him by the wrist. Feeling his pulse quicken, Bitty doesn't move a muscle. In response, Jack moves his hand so he can intertwined his fingers and Bitty's own.

"Bits," Jack repeats. "I know what you saw. Forget about it."

Even startled, Bitty is still the most handsome person Jack has ever seen. His face has a flush to it and his brown eyes are wide, confusion making his eyebrows furrow in a way that makes Jack's stomach flip. They're still holding hands. It's an innocuous gesture, Jack knows, but feels huge.

Bitty clears his throat but doesn't move away. "You're concussed, Jack."

"I'm concussed," Jack agrees. "Which is why I don't have a Howler or anything like that planned. And I'm not good at this kind of thing and you deserve the fireworks and roses and I know it's crazy but I think I may lo-"

Later, they will disagree over who started the kiss. It's not an argument and, when they discuss it, both of their eyes light up. Still, who moved first is still up for debate.

What matters most is that Jack doesn't get to finish his sentence because they're kissing. It's warm and sweet and better than either of them imagined. The first time they pull apart, it's because Jack has accidentally yanked his broken arm up in an attempt to hold Bitty. They smile shyly at each other, then kiss again. The next parting is when Bitty knocks their foreheads together and then spends some time worrying over Jack's bandage. This ends with Jack chirping Bitty and both of them laughing. They're moving towards each other for another kiss when Madame Longbottom appears from the other side of the privacy divider.

She clears her throat but has the ghost of a smile on her face when she says, "That is not productive to Mr. Zimmermann's healing. Mr. Bittle, your time is up."

As the Matron-in-Training escorts him out, Bitty blows a kiss Jack's way. He catches it with his good hand, clutching it to his chest.


End file.
